Vernon Dursley and the Laws of Libel
by Pjazz
Summary: The Dursley's decide to sue JK Rowling for libel.


Vernon Dursley and the Laws of Libel  
  
A Harry Potter fanfic by Pjazz  
  
2003  
  
The sun blazed down out of a perfectly blue sky, casting sharp deep shadows across the houses and gardens of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Sussex. Everything seemed normal on this most beautiful of English summer's days. The bees buzzed, flowers bloomed and birds sang perched in the branches of cool leafy trees.  
  
Apart from number 4 Privet Drive, that is. Here things weren't normal at all. Lined up along the rhododenron hedge stood a group of reporters and photograhers. Their attention was directed at several microphones on stands which had been placed in the middle of an otherwise nondescript lawn. All around Privet Drive curtains twitched with barely concealed curiosity. The neighbours knew something was happening out of the ordinary at No.4, but they didn't know what.  
  
Suddenly the door to No.4 opened. Out strode Vernon Dursley, in his best suit, walrus mustache neatly trimmed for the occasion. Next came Petunia Dursley, nervously dabbing her hair into place with long bony fingers. Then came Dudley Dursley, a huge lump of a teenager who seemed to waddle not walk across the greensward. With the Dursley family was Ernest Chisel, of Chisel, Grabbit and Runne, a lawyer who carried a sheaf of notes with him.  
  
"Ahem. Testing. 1 2 3. Yes, that appears to be in order." Chisel pushed his wire frame glasses further up his long nose. " Welcome ladies and gentlemen of the world's media.  
  
My name is Ernest Chisel, of Chisel, Grabbit and Runne, soliciters of law since 1947."  
  
"Get on with it man. We haven't got all day," thundered Vernon Dursley, his thick neck bulging the collar of his shirt.  
  
"Quite. Many of you present will know I'm sure of the Harry Potter books by JK Rowling."  
  
"That horrid woman!" shuddered Petunia Dursley.  
  
"And the deplorable way in which she slanders the good name of my clients, the Dursleys. I am here to announce we intend to sue Ms Rowling for libel and defamation of character."  
  
A buzz of interest went around the assembled press corps. Cameras whirred into action, capturing the moment for posterity.  
  
"We intend to demand 100 million pounds in damages."  
  
"One hun-dred mil-li-on po-unds," confirmed Vernon Dursley, rolling the syllables around his mouth like a fine wine.  
  
"Cor, a hundred million quid!" piped a reporter. " What cha gonna do with all that dosh?"  
  
"Buy Millwall Football Club," replied Dudley Dursley with relish. "Once I'm in charge we'll win the FA Cup, the Premiership and the Champions League."  
  
A ripple of amusement went round the assembled media. Millwall were not a very good football team, and they had never ever won anything very much.  
  
"What's so funny?" bridled Dudley. "Millwall are the bestest team in the world. I'll smash your faces in!"  
  
"There there, Duddykins," soothed his mother.  
  
"In the books it says you're all mean and nasty to Harry Potter. Didn't you once make him live under the stairs?"  
  
"All lies!" raged Vernon Dursley. "That blasted woman made it all up. Harry is like a second son to us."  
  
"So you're not just doing this for the money?"  
  
"WHO SAID THAT! I'LL THRASH THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF YOU!"  
  
"What does JK Rowling say about this?"  
  
"Alas, we have heard nothing from Ms Rowling," admitted Ernest Chisel primly. "Though any day now we ---"  
  
Just then a large white barn owl fluttered down out of the sky and landed on Vernon Dursley's shoulder, proferring him the letter held in its beak.  
  
"What the--- OWLS! Confounded creatures! I will not have owls on my property!"  
  
"What does the letter say, dear?" asked Petunia Dursley.  
  
Her husband tore open the letter. "It's from JK Rowling. It says 'sue and be damned'. That blasted woman! Blasted owls!"  
  
The white barn owl took off with a screech. Vernon Dursely, his face now as red as his tie, grabbed clods of earth in both hands and threw them after the departing owl.  
  
"GET OFF MY LAND, DAMN YOU!"  
  
When the owl had flown out of range he turned to face the reporters, only to find they had all gone.  
  
"What happened? Where is everyone?"  
  
"They had a tip off David Beckham was in the area," relied Ernest Chisel ruefully. "Apparently he has a new hairstyle."  
  
Lazy, good for nothing footballers! Overpaid ingrates! Mincing nancyboys!" raged Vernon Dursley. "In my day they had a short back and sides and be done with it."  
  
"Quite," said Ernest Chisel. "However, perhaps now would be a good time to discuss the small matter of my fee..."  
  
THE END  
  
*** 


End file.
